


Contessa Saves Christmas

by TheSleepingKnight



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Cauldron Secret Santa, Crack, F/F, M/M, Utter and complete crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepingKnight/pseuds/TheSleepingKnight
Summary: Shooting Santa was the best and worst thing she'd ever done.The minidress was a bit much, however.





	Contessa Saves Christmas

In hindsight, maybe she should have been running a Path to avoid annoyance. That would have perfectly solved her predicament. Fitting into these chimneys were wreaking havoc on her back and legs.

Killing Santa had definitely been a lapse in judgment.

* * *

 

_A few hours earlier…_

Contessa was cleaning up a mess in Alaska involving an overly ambitious Master who was planning on enthralling several figures in high ranks of government and using them to destabilize the Protectorate as a whole to gain clout amongst the supervillain community. Sadly, his control lasted even after his demise, so she had to clear out the rest of his enthralled before moving on.

She was running on autopilot, letting her hands move separately from her will as her shard guided her motions more smoothly and efficiently then would have been possible for any normal human. One, two, three- fifteen down, one to-

Suddenly she twisted and shot at the thin ceiling of the house she was in, emptying the rest of the clip. There was a moment of silence and then a heavy _thud._

...Who had been on the roof?

It didn’t take long for her to get up there as well, to see…

_What._

An extremely overweight man wearing a very finely made but stereotypical Santa suit, napsack full of presents and all…

She would have been remiss to not mention the massive, intricate decorated and crafted sleigh, with silver and golden bells adorning its side, lovingly handcrafted wood gleaming in the moonlight, seeming to almost shimmer and shine. The reindeer that were bound to it also glistened, fur immaculately clean, and the all managed to look horrified despite their lack of humanoid faces.

Contessa stared at the reindeer.

The reindeer stared back.

Contessa refused to blink.

The things just looked at her with confusion and fear.

Contessa promptly turned on her heel. Whatever insanity was happening here, it was not her problem. If this deluded fool had thought he was actually Santa, then it was his own fault that he got shot. She resumed her previously running Path.

    _Pick up the hat._

...no.

_Pick up that hat._

...no.

    _Pick Up. The Hat._

...fuck you and the Entity you came with.

Contessa turned back around and picked up the hat. It was...astonishing light and clean, the red cloth looking fresh and clean, with the silver fur lining shining in the moonlight. Surprising, considering she’d blown holes through it’s previous wearer.

    _Put on the Hat._

Filled with hate, Contessa put on the hat.

Instantly, a strange feeling ran through her entire body. The scent of mint and sugar filled the air, ghostly sensations of mistletoe and evergreens scrapping gently against her skin. She suddenly flashed back to one Christmas Eve with her parents, back in her old world. The candlelight dancing off of the ornaments on the tree, momma’s little smile when a 7 year old Fortuna excitedly unwrapped her gifts, her father’ booming laughter when she had made a face about getting socks.

By the time she finished reminiscing, she was wearing something else. A crimson and white mini dress. Dark red stockings. _Elf shoes._ And a dark red cloak draped over her shoulders, somehow managing to perfectly keep the cold out.

_Save Christmas._

Contessa wondered if she had been too careless and had fallen under the effect of a Master or Stranger. That was the only possible explanation.

The reindeer whinnied and stomped their hoofs, and as badly as she wanted to at that moment, Contessa couldn’t shoot them. Instead, she dug into her pocket and brought out her phone, dialing Mother Doctor.

“Doctor. A situation has arisen. I’m going to be busy for another twenty four hours.”

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“Nothing serious.” Contessa reassured, picking at the hem of the dress. “I just have to save Christmas.”

“...What the fu—“

Contessa hung up. She had a lot of ground to cover.

* * *

 

The first big hurdle she faced was slipping down the chimneys. They were simply not built to accommodate human bodies— she didn’t even _want_ to know how the old man had done it. Had be been a Changer or a Breaker? For that matter, what did you have to go through to get a power package that made you _Santa?_

Her first question was answered when she encountered a type of chimney where it was legitimate impossible to even slip down. She had glanced smugly at the reindeer who had been slave driving her all night.

Then she started to fly, her massive bag of presents becoming completely weightless and lifting her into the air...and then lowering her towards the tiny funnel.

The reindeer had never heard such creative cursing before. The old Santa had been much more composed.

* * *

 

Contessa sat in her— in _his_ sled, shivering. Feeling your bones breaking and liquefying simultaneously might be one of the most painful and disturbing experience she’d ever been through.

 _Just a little more._ She urged herself. _I have be close to being done, right?_ The next few people on her list were….

Oh.

Well, maybe this wouldn't be as horrible as she thought.

“Door to Houston.”

* * *

 

Eidolon considered himself a simple man. He woke up, did his job to the best of his ability, smiled for the camera, and buried anything he didn’t need. He had long since stopped celebrating Christmas— it seemed rather pointless. Besides, the amount of crime actually went _up_ during the holidays, villains trying to sneak past his radar.

Imagine his surprise upon waking up with a delicately wrapped box, complete with a little bow and everything.

Had one of his Wards done this? If so, he needed to have a talk with them about potential security breaches…

_From Contessa._

Well, that explained how it’s gotten here. Carefully, he unwrapped it.

Inside was…

A small dog whistle.

_Winston._

Eidolon thought himself a well controlled man.

He hadn’t let himself cry in years, but the memories of one of his earliest companions wouldn’t be denied. He had almost forgotten…

The whistle rang loud and clear.

* * *

 

Legend often wondered whether or not he was a good man. He had saved countless lives, yes. He had also allowed the Slaughterhouse 9 to run rampant. He had trained and raised Wards into heroes.

The number of students that were still alive could be counted on one hand.

He tried to be a good husband and father.

He was _constantly_ gone.

How many nights had Arthur fallen asleep in an empty bed? How many nights had his pride, his joy, his son cried out for one of his dads, only to never get an answer?

Why did saving the world have to be such a time demanding job?

Legend closed his eyes on the 24th in his personal quarters in New York, silently apologizing to his family once again.

When he opened his eyes, it was to Arthur’s overjoyed face...and a note.

_—Take the day off. Contessa._

For the first time in years, Christmas morning was filled with laughter in the Morgan household.

* * *

 

Alexandria never stopped working. Sleeping was more of a formality than anything. She could run for days without getting tired. She only did so to keep up the illusion of Director Costa-Brown being a normal human being.

Imagine her surprise when she woke to the coquettish face of Contessa, who was...wearing what Alexandria believed was one of those stereotypical “sexy santa” costumes. And...was that mistletoe?

“It’s hard to get meaningful Christmas presents for the three most powerful parahumans in the world.” Contessa said, shrugging off her red cloak. “You were pretty easy, though. What you need is to _relax_.”

“Wha-”

There wasn’t much more talking the rest of the morning.

And thus, Christmas was saved.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas TOPH4T.


End file.
